


The Boy Made of Porcelain

by EdgarAllenPoet



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarAllenPoet/pseuds/EdgarAllenPoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and said, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if you want to talk, I’m here,”  He handed Ryan a piece of paper with his phone number and address on it.<br/>“Nothing’s going on,” Ryan choked out, feeling tears welling in his eyes.  “I’m fine… thanks,”<br/>Spencer nodded and walked away, and folded the paper as carefully as he had folded the invitation, years ago, and slid it into his pocket.  He moved his thumb over the old scar of the cigarette burn on his arm and let out a deep, sad sigh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello my name is Spencer, and I'd like to save you

In a second grade classroom, a little boy named Spencer walked around the room and gave an invitation to his birthday party to everyone in the class. Even Ryan Ross, the kid whose hair was always too long and who drew on himself and whose clothes tended to smell funny. None of the other kids had invited Ryan to their birthday parties that year, but Mrs. Smith made a special invitation for Ryan, and gave Spencer special directions to give it to him. All because they’d gone trick or treating together the year before (Spencer had been a ninja turtle, and Ryan was superman) and now his mom thought they were buddies.  
  
Ryan smiled at Spencer as he took the invitation and tucked it carefully into his folder. “Thank you,” he said quietly.  
  
“What’s that spot on your arm?” Spencer asked, pointing to a red, raised up area that was smaller than a dime (about the size of a cigarette butt).  
  
Ryan frowned and pulled his arm back. “I was bad. I don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbled.  
  
Spencer shrugged and went back to handing out invitations.  
  
“Ryan, please stop coloring on yourself,” the teacher said a while later, but when she looked away to continue teaching their handwriting lesson, he put his arm on his lap under his desk and kept coloring. When he finished, seven large, carefully drawn flowers decorated his arm in black ink. The spot of his arm was the center of one flower, colored in so that it couldn’t even be seen.  
  
“I’ll see you at the party tomorrow, Spencer,” Ryan said quietly, excitedly, to Spencer at the end of the day. Spencer grinned and nodded, and was relieved when Ryan ran off to get picked up from school. Ryan was weird, and Spencer didn’t want the kids to laugh at him the way they laughed at Ryan.  
  
!  
  
Five quick raps came on the door, and Spencer got down from his chair at the table, where he’d been doing homework. His mother put his little sister down in her high chair and went to answer the door, and Spencer followed her. He peeked around her side when the door opened.  
  
Mrs. Ross, holding too tight to Ryan’s upper arm, stood there with a tight expression on her face. There was an old, beat up car out in the road in front of the house, with a chubby man in the front seat. The one thing Spencer noticed immediately was that Ryan was crying. What a baby.  
  
“Tell them,” Mrs. Ross snapped, and Ryan sniffled a response.  
  
“Tell them!” she jerked Ryan’s arm harshly and he whimpered.  
  
Ryan’s eyes were glued to the floor of the porch as he said “I can’t come to Spencer’s party tomorrow,” very quietly.  
  
“Tell them why,”  
  
“Mommy…” Ryan whispered a protest, sounding desperate, and the look his mom shot him was cold and hard.  
  
“Tell-them-why-Ryan,” she spat out slowly, and Ryan gulped.  
  
“I-I was bad,” Ryan said quietly. “I can’t come cause I was bad,”  
  
Mrs. Ross nodded and moved to leave, but then Spencer’s mother spoke up.  
  
“Mrs. Ross, surely you’re overreacting…” she said, trying to sound light about it, but also seeing how absolutely distressed Ryan looked. She tried to shoo Spencer back inside.  
  
“Don’t tell me how to raise my child, and I won’t tell you how to raise yours,” Mrs. Ross snapped, and then dragged Ryan off the porch. The last thing Spencer saw before his mom closed the door firmly and shooed him back to his homework, was the raw, red skin that had earlier been decorated with flowers, and Ryan whimpering “Ouch, mommy, let go. Ow you’re hurting me, stop,” as his mother dragged him back to the car.  
  
!  
  
In fourth grade Ryan showed up late a lot. None of the students noticed, except for Spencer, who couldn’t help it. He saw the way Ryan slunk into the room late, with dark circles under his eyes. He saw the way the skinny ten year old nearly fell asleep in class every day. He sometimes saw bruises or scratches on Ryan’s arms, but when he asked Ryan just mumbled, “It’s nothing,” or “Fell off my bike.” Shortly after Spencer started asking, Ryan started wearing long sleeves.  
  
!  
  
“Ryan!” it was seventh grade now, and Spencer ran out of the school building, followed by a shorter, hyperactive kid with geeky classes. Ryan turned and looked around, trying to see who had called his name. Oh, it was that kid… Ryan struggled to remember the boy’s name.  
  
“Ryan, hey,” Spencer panted and leaned forward, hands on his knees, when he reached him. He was sweating through his shirt, and Ryan thought that maybe it would help him to lose some of that baby fat, but who was he to judge.  
  
“Hey…” he thought it was right, but was bad at remembering names and wasn’t completely certain. He didn’t want to offend the only person at school who ever bothered to talk to him. “…Spencer…”  
  
Spencer smiled, and Ryan knew he got it right. “Brendon and I are hanging out tonight after school, and we wanna know if you’d like to come,”  
  
Ryan bit his lip. He was supposed to go home straight after school, every day, and make sure that the house was clean before his mom got home from work. Technically, his father was supposed to take care of the house, cause he couldn’t get a job, but he never did. Dirty house meant that his mom would get mad, his parents would fight, and he wouldn’t get any dinner, sleep, or homework done.  
  
He shook his head. “I can’t… but I can come over… Sunday?”  
  
Brendon shook his head quickly and went up on his tip toes to whisper in Spencer’s ear.  
  
“No can do,” Spencer said. “It’s the day of rest, so Brendon won’t be there,”  
  
“Day of rest?” Ryan asked, way too conscious of the seconds ticking away. If he was too late, his dad would be mad, and last time his dad got very mad…  
  
“He’s Mormon,” Spencer said with a shrug. “Maybe some other time?”  
  
Ryan nodded slowly. “Yeah… some other time…”  
  
Spencer gave him a smile before walking off with Brendon, down the street, opposite the way to Ryan’s house. Ryan watched them go until he couldn’t see them anymore, and then he sprinted the five blocks home.  
  
“You’re late,” his dad’s gruff voice met him as soon as he closed the door and blocked out the thick Vegas heat. He let himself catch his breath and bask in the air conditioning before his father belched and said, “Get me a beer,”  
  
He did, and then he got to work.  
  
!  
  
“Mom, you can’t be serious,” fourteen year old Ryan said, trailing his mother around the house as she slammed doors, broke things, and shoved random things into the bag in her hands. “Please.. please don’t do this!” he pleaded.  
  
She turned around and slapped him, hard. He put a hand up to his burning cheek. “Shut up, Ryan! Go to your room!”  
  
She stomped into her and her husband’s bedroom and shoved clothes into the bag. Ryan followed her in.  
  
“You can’t leave us!” he almost shouted. “Mom, please. You know Dad can’t take care of us,”  
  
“That’s why I’m leaving, dumb ass,” she snapped.  
  
“Take me with you!” Ryan said, because as much as his mother was a sadistic bitch, she would at least remember to pay the electric bill, and she wouldn’t sit around all day and drink beer. At least he would be with an adult.  
  
“Go to your room, Ryan!” she screamed, picking and ashtray off the dresser and throwing it at him. It his him in the head, and a white pain exploded behind his eyes as he felt something warm trickle down his temple. He didn’t argue anymore. He stumbled out of the room, down the hall, and into his room. His head really hurt so he laid down on his bed.  
  
Just to get rid of the dizziness, he told himself, and five minutes later he was fast asleep. When he woke up in the morning his father was passed out in the living room, surrounded by empty beer bottles. Ryan’s head was throbbing, but he just cleaned the blood off his face and put a bandaid on it before heading off to school. He tried to pretend that he didn’t see the car missing from the driveway. He tried to pretend that he wasn’t all on his own now.  
  
When Spencer asked him what happened to his head, Ryan gave him a small smile and said “I ran into the door. What a klutz, huh?”  
  
Spencer gave a chuckle and nodded. He clapped Ryan on the shoulder and crossed back across the hallway. He didn’t see the tears that fell down Ryan’s face as he leaned his head against the cool metal of his locker.  
  
!  
  
It came to the point that Ryan was no longer surprised when he came home to his father drunk out of his senses. Now he was more surprised when he came home and his father was sober. Ryan stopped coming home until late. He stayed in the library at school, but the Spencer started asking him “Why are you staying so late?”  
  
Ryan didn’t want to answer Spencer questions, so he started tagging along in the back of the detention room. Nobody ever questioned why he was there, and Ryan was quiet enough that they didn’t have reason to.  
  
One time, though, when detention was dismissed and Ryan was walking out of the school building, Spencer was waiting for him.  
  
He put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and said, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if you want to talk, I’m here,” He handed Ryan a piece of paper with his phone number and address on it.  
  
“Nothing’s going on,” Ryan choked out, feeling tears welling in his eyes. “I’m fine… thanks,”  
  
Spencer nodded and walked away, and Ryan folded the paper as carefully as he had folded the invitation, years ago, and slid it into his pocket. He moved his thumb over the old scar of the cigarette burn on his arm and let out a deep, sad sigh.  
  
When he got home, though, his father was wasted.  
  
“You look just like your mother!” he spat, and the teenager shrugged and went into the kitchen. His father followed.  
  
“You’re the reason she left,” he told his son, who shrugged again, and kept his eyes straight ahead as he started his task of making dinner. Cambell’s soup, easy enough, and fast. He needed to do his homework for once, because he was falling behind and was never going to pass sophomore year at this rate.  
  
“You’re a little bitch,” his father’s hand tangled in his hair and shoved Ryan’s head forward. A groan fell out of the boy’s lips as his forehead knocked against the sharp edge of the cabinet. “Little pussy,”  
  
He laughed and walked out of the kitchen, and Ryan rubbed the sting out of his head as he finished heating the soup. He carried the bowl to his father in his arm chair and set it on his lap.  
  
“Wait,” his father barked as Ryan turned to leave, and he stopped. He took a sip of the soup and cursed, then threw the bowl. It his Ryan in the back of his neck and splattered all over his back. “It’s fucking hot! Are you trying to kill me!?”  
  
The impact from the bowl jolted Ryan, and he fell forward onto his hands and knees. He reached a hand back and cradled his neck, quietly whimpering an “Ow…”  
  
“What was that!?” his father snapped, rising from his chair. “You think you know pain, you little shit? You have no idea!” he growled, and Ryan the tinkling of metal and the zoom of a belt whizzing through its loops.  
  
Ryan braced himself and stifled a cry between clenched teeth as the belt came down. Once, twice, nine times. Nine strikes, a kick to the ribs, and his father was gone. It wasn’t the worse he’d gotten. His bedroom door slammed and Ryan slowly peeled himself off the floor. There was a hot, sticky mess of soup all over the floor, and Ryan’s back stung horribly. He hadn’t realized it before, but when he put a finger to the sore spot on his forehead, he pulled it down and saw blood.  
  
“I’m not dealing with this tonight,” Ryan growled to himself, and picked himself off the floor. His ribs hurt from the kick, but it was nothing compared to what he felt when he slung his backpack onto his shoulders. He left the house, slamming the door behind him, and ran to the address on the paper.  
  
“Hello?” Spencer was standing there in pajama pants and a hoodie when he opened the door, he looked confused to see Ryan. Ryan could see past Spencer, and see Spencer’s entire family in the living room, crowded on a couch, watching a movie.  
  
“Ryan, you’re bleeding!” Spencer stepped onto the porch and put a gentle hand on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan’s backpack dropped from his back and he swayed on his feet.  
“Whoa, I gotcha,” Spencer said, securing his arms around Ryan like he was scared Ryan was going to faint. Ryan shook his head as he started to cry and wrapped his arms around Spencer, burying his face in Spencer’s shirt.  
  
“I really need someone to talk to right now…”  
  
!  
  
After a while, Ryan became a fixture at the Smith’s house. Spencer’s parents were way to generous, but Ryan had to basically beg them not to call protective services on his father.  
  
“I can handle it,” he said. “It’s fine. It’s not that bad,”  
  
He learned to recognize the warning signs- the special ways his father would act when he was going to be particularly violent that night, or if he was just going to be grumpy, or if things were going to be fine. Whenever he tried to get violent, Ryan would go to Spencer’s house, and the door was always unlocked for him.  
  
“Here,” Spencer’s mother lead Ryan to the bathroom after his third or fourth time spending the night. She placed a red colored tooth brush among the others in the holder. “This one is yours now,” she said. “So it’s always here whenever you need to stay over. And our couch is always open, just for you,”  
  
She place a kiss to his forehead, and went to show him how the blankets and pillows were kept in a cabinet in the living room, so Ryan could get them whenever he needed. Ryan wanted to cry because of how nice it all was, but he told himself that sixteen year old boys don’t just cry for no reason in their friend’s houses. So he didn’t.  
  
!  
  
That’s what Spencer became- a friend. At first he was very protective, and he would fire a million and one questions any time Ryan came to school with a new bruise on his face. Eventually though, he caught on that Ryan did not want to talk about it, and it wouldn’t do any good anyways.  
  
Brendon did not catch on so easily. The boy attached himself to Spencer and trailed him around as often as possible. When he did, he could never stop himself from asking Ryan a hundred and one questions.  
  
“Ryan! What happened to your eye!?” Brendon asked dramatically, leaning up and running his fingertips over the browning edges of the bruise. Ryan shoved him away.  
“Nothing!” he snarled harshly, and then froze.  
  
Brendon stared up at him with wide eyes, and Spencer raised an eyebrow. Ryan shook his head slowly and ran off.  
  
“Stay here,” he heard Spencer’s voice as he ran. “No, Brendon. He didn’t mean it. Just stay here a second,”  
  
Spencer found Ryan crouching against the school wall with his head in his hands. He knelt in front of him.  
  
“Hey…”  
  
“I didn’t mean to…”  
  
“It’s alright,” Spencer said quickly, putting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and squeezing. “It’s okay,”  
  
“No it’s not!” Ryan shouted, looking up at him. “They say that we turn into our parents…” he said quietly, “But I really don’t want to turn into them…”  
  
Ryan’s fingertips carefully trailed over the bruise on his eye, and Spencer took his hand and pulled it down. “You won’t. You’re so much better than them, Ryan. You’re going to be fine,”  
  
Ryan shrugged, and Spencer took his hands and pulled him to stand. “I’ll talk to Brendon,” Spencer said. Brendon stopped asking questions.  
  
!  
  
The whole house was asleep, except for Ryan. He lay on the Smith’s couch and sniffled, trying to cry as quietly as possible because he was unable to stop the tears from falling. He sobbed quietly into his hands and his whole body shook. He’d gotten in another fight with his dad, and he felt horrible. The things his father had said, intoxicated or not, had really stung, worse than a belt.  
  
A hand on Ryan’s shoulder caused him to jump out of his skin.  
  
“Hey…” it was Spencer, pulling Ryan off the couch and into a hug. He tucked Ryan’s head to his shoulder and wrapped his arms gently around Ryan’s back. “It’s okay, Ry,”  
Ryan didn’t know why, but it made him cry harder.  
  
Ryan slept in Spencer’s bed that night, curled into Spencer’s arms with his head on Spencer chest. He fell asleep quickly, but Spencer stayed up, absentmindedly running his fingers through Ryan’s hair and trying to think of a way that he could make everything better.


	2. My name is Brendon Urie and I want to know everything about you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re such a fucking dork,” Ryan grumbled, climbing into the bed carefully anyways and lying down on his stomach.
> 
> “You love it,” Brendon replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m staying here till you fall asleep,”
> 
> “Why?”
> 
> “Shut up, I’m comforting you,” Brendon said, and Ryan laughed, because this kid was ridiculous.

“I’m going to see my mom,” Ryan said, sitting on Spencer’s couch after school. Spencer sat next to him with a video game controller in his hand, and Brendon was on the opposite side of Spencer with his head resting in Spencer’s lap. Brendon also had a video game controller, and so did Jackie, who was sitting on the other couch.

“Really?” Spencer said, his eyes darting from the game to Ryan for a moment. Ryan nodded slowly and ran his tongue over his lips.

“Yeah,”

Spencer reached over and squeezed Ryan’s knee gently, then went back to the game. Brendon looked curiously up at Ryan, and Ryan looked away from him. He hadn’t really told Brendon anything about his parents, and he was sure that Spencer hadn’t either, so Brendon was always shooting him these sad, confused looks. He’d been over at Spencer’s a few times when Ryan had come from his dad’s house- once after things had gotten rather ugly and he’d had a bloody lip and stuff. So Brendon surely knew that something was going on, but he probably didn’t know what exactly.

There were a lot of times when he was around that Spencer and Ryan would go out for a walk or something to talk and wouldn’t be back for a long time, and when they did come back Ryan looked like he’d been crying.

Brendon was shooting him one of those looks now, and Ryan was looking pointedly away from him. Brendon wished that Ryan wouldn’t always shut him out so much, and he’d mentioned it to Spencer once when they were alone.

“Ryan just needs some time to get used to you,” Spencer told him. “He’s not good at the whole ‘friend’ thing. He’ll open up to you eventually,” Brendon wasn’t so sure about that, but he nodded anyways.

!

“I’m going to see mom,” Ryan already had his backpack over his shoulders and the door handle in his hand. He heard the ‘cluh-clunk!’ of his father’s Lazy-boy chair recliner going down, and he considered just making a mad dash and running, but he also considered that his father might not even try to hit him this time, so he stayed still. Mentioning his mother in front of him never went well, but Ryan had never talked about visiting her in the three years that she’d been gone. He watched his father carefully while the older man stood there, arms crossed over his chest and stomach sticking out too far to be healthy. His father was huge, nearly half a foot taller than Ryan himself and plump with a layer of muscles buried under the fat somewhere. He was right when he said that Ryan looked just like his mother, who was thin as a stick and lengthy. They stared at each other for a long time until Mr. Ross nodded.

“What, you want a kiss before you go? If you’re leaving, then get out,” he turned and walked to the kitchen, and Ryan ducked out of the house, thinking that that went a whole lot better than he’d anticipated.

!

Ryan got into the seat of Spencer’s car with that look on his face. Seeing as you needed a lot of things like i.d.s and birth certificates and a responsible legal guardian to get a driver’s license, and Ryan didn’t have a way to get any of the aforementioned items, Spencer kind of drove him everywhere or he took the bus. Ryan was going to take the bus to see his mom, who he tracked down using the address on the child support checks, but then Spencer offered to take him, and why say no when it meant saving a dollar in bus fare?

“Want to talk about it?” Spencer asked.

“Spence, she was just-“ Ryan stopped and looked in the rearview mirror, where he saw Brendon. He mumbled, “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about it,”

Brendon frowned and slumped in his seat.

“Brendon only lives like five minutes from your mom’s house, Ry,” Spencer said. “I had to run and pick him up really quick, cause his family is being,” he waved his hand around, “Difficult,”

“My sister is pregnant,” Brendon said, leaning forward between the two front seats. “Premarital, and the guy isn’t even a Mormon. My parents are losing their minds!”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ryan droned in a dull voice. “What’s the big deal again?”

Brendon gaped at Ryan, as if completely shocked that Ryan didn't understand, all up in his space because that’s just how Brendon is. “Dude, he’s an atheist!” he said. “It would have been bad enough if he was like, Catholic, or something. They were mad enough when she joined that club about women’s rights or something. I mean, I’m totally for it, but my parents… eh. The only good thing that’s coming out of this is that they’re finally done freaking out about the news broadcast they saw for gay rights. I mean, the Lord forbid someone have an alternative lifestyle to them, really!”

“Brendon…” Spencer sang out. “You’re rambling, bud,”

“Oh…” Brendon said quietly. “Sorry, sorry,” he sank back into the back seat.

“Let’s stop for coffee,” Ryan said, rubbing his temples with his forefingers. “I’ll pay,”

“Uhm…” a quiet voice came from the back. “I.. I can’t…”

“Why not?” Ryan scoffed.

“Ryan,” Spencer said. “Mormon. He’s not allowed to drink coffee,”

Ryan twisted in his seat to look back at Brendon. “You’re kidding me, right!? You’re not allowed to have coffee?”

Brendon shook his head and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Ah, no. Not kidding,”

“Well fuck,” he turned back around in his seat. “Okay, we can stop and get cokes at the gas station then. I’ll still pay, and it’s cheaper than coffee,”

“Can you get me a water?” Brendon asked from the backseat, and when Ryan looked back at him again, he shrugged bashfully and ducked his head. “I’m not allowed to have soda like that… Like, I can have Sprite, but I don’t really like it,”

“Does God really give a damn about caffeinated beverages?” Ryan asked, jokingly.

“Ryan, don’t make fun of him,” Spencer snapped, and Ryan’s jaw fell open.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Spencer,” Yeah, he did that on purpose, mostly to see Brendon blush and shrink down farther in his seat. “I was kidding. Fine, whatever. Just drop me at my dad’s house then,”

“You just visited your mom… are you sure that going back to your dad’s is a good idea?” Spencer asked.

“Just drop me off!” Ryan snapped, and turned to look out the window. Spencer let out a heavy sigh and did as Ryan asked.

!

Later that night Ryan used the key Spencer’s mother had given him to unlock the backdoor, and he found Brendon and Spencer at the dining room table eating pizza with the twins. “Hey Ryan,” Jackie said cheerfully as he walked in, and when his eyes met Spencer’s, he could tell what Spencer was thinking. ‘I told you so.’ Ryan shook his head and walked to the living room, to pass out or something. Spencer got up and followed him, muttering an “I’ll be right back,”

Brendon stayed at the table with Jackie and Crystal and gave them a reassuring smile, even though he could hear a whispered conversation between Spencer and Ryan in the other room. He cleared his throat, “So, how about a checkers tournament?”

!

“Hey, can I come over?” Brendon said into the phone. It was an old one with a twisty chord that stretched halfway across the kitchen- totally nineteen-eighties. He’d locked himself in the pantry to call Spencer. “Spence, this isn’t good… I can’t tell you right now, but…”

“I’m not home right now, Brendon,” Spencer replied. “I’m at the hospital. Ryan’s dad had a heart attack,”

“Oh… oh my word… which hospital are you guys at?! Is he okay?” Brendon asked quickly, and he heard Spencer sigh on the other end.

“I think Ryan just needs to be left alone right now, okay Brendon?” Spencer said, and Brendon’s heart sank.

“Yeah, yeah okay.. I get it.. No, Spencer, everything’s fine. Don’t worry about me, take care of Ryan,” Brendon hung up the phone and sighed. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “I’m going to hell…”

His mother pounded on the pantry door. “Brendon! What are you doing in there? I need to make dinner!”

!

It took a lot of convincing, pleading, and promising, and a bit of lying, to get his parents to agree to let him spend the night at Spencer’s house. He didn’t call Spencer ahead of time to check to see if it was okay, because as selfish as it was, he didn’t care. He showed up at Spencer’s house after dinner with a bag over his shoulder and a flower held carefully in his hand and hidden away in the pocket of his hoodie. It wasn’t for Spencer, but the person whom it was for was probably at Spencer’s house.

Crystal opened the door and let him in. “Ryan is up in Spencer’s room, and Spencer’s in the shower. Jackie and I are downstairs watching Mean Girls if you wanna join us,” she told him, and as tempting as Mean Girls was…

“No thanks, I’m going to go hang out with Ryan,” he said and crept up the stairs to Spencer’s room. He pushed the door open slowly and saw Ryan lying on Spencer’s bed, throwing a baseball at the ceiling and catching it.

“Hey Ryan…” he said quietly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. Ryan didn’t stop throwing the ball, up and down, up and down, in a steady rhythm.

“Hey Brendon,” Ryan sounded really tired.

“How’s your dad?” Brendon asked.

“Spencer told you?” Ryan asked then sighed. “Not good. Critical care and all that. A nice nurse at the hospital kept telling me that he should be okay, but I’m not sure if I want him to be, you know?”

Brendon nodded and walked slowly over to the bed. He sat on the edge of it and pulled his hand out of his pocket, then thrusted it out at Ryan. “I brought this for you,”

Ryan sat up slowly and took the daisy in his skinny fingers. “Uhm.. thank you,” Ryan twirled it slightly and dropped his hands into his lap. “That was sweet of you..”

Brendon shrugged and ducked his head, blushing. “Well, I… yeah,” he cleared his throat. “You know, Ryan… I’ve known you for a while now, and I still don’t know anything about you…” Ryan shrugged and laid back.

“I’m not good at the whole ‘friend’ thing,” he admitted. “But maybe I could answer some questions, if you have any, I guess,”

Brendon bit his lip and looked at him. “What’s your favorite color?”

Ryan laughed. “Seriously?” Brendon nodded. “Red,”

“Food?”

“Spencer’s mom’s spaghetti,”

“I saw one time, when you were changing… I mean, I wasn’t looking, I just happened to see it. It was an accident, I didn’t mean to..” he stammered out, blushing and twisting his hands together.

“Brendon,” Ryan interrupted to get him back on focus.

“How’d you get those marks on your back?” Brendon asked.

Ryan looked away suddenly. “I’m not going to talk about that,”

“Same way as the bloody noses and black eyes?” Brendon persisted.

“It’s none of your business,” Ryan said dead pan, obviously not interested in the conversation.

Brendon nodded. “I have an uncle, and sometimes when he gets mad he-“

“Brendon, don’t try to empathize with me! Just stop. I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want you to try to understand me!” Ryan snapped, and he went back to throwing the ball. He nodded again and stared at the floor.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,”

“Do you ever think about…” Brendon snapped his mouth shut. “No, never mind…”

“No, what?” Ryan asked. “Just ask,”

“Have you ever thought about kissing a boy?” he blurted out, blushing bright and squeezing his hands together in his lap.

Ryan snorted a laugh and said sarcastically, “Yeah, kissed every boy in town,”

“I’m serious!”

Ryan sighed and sat up slowly. “Yeah, I guess… I mean… I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it,”

“I think I’m going to hell,” Brendon sighed, and dropped his head down onto his knees, so he as folded in half, blushing even brighter because he totally hadn't meant to indirectly come out to Ryan with this conversation.  He'd never told anyone before. Ryan pulled his legs up and folded them underneath him so he was sitting Indian style.

“Ya know, all these Mormon rules sound like a bunch of bull shit if you ask me,” Ryan said. “Really, why does God care so much what you do with your mouth?”

Brendon shrugged. “I’m not supposed to try and understand it. I’m just supposed to listen,”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” Ryan snapped. “Brendon, have you ever kissed a boy?”

Brendon sat up and shook his head. “Of course not!”

“If you kissed me, right now, would it stop you from being able to donate to charity and all that other Christian stuff you’re supposed to do?” Ryan asked, leaning forward, and Brendon blushed brighter.

“That’s ridiculous!” he argued, and Ryan grinned.

“So says the boy who gave me a flower,” Ryan twirled it between his fingers and stuck it behind his ear. “But that’s exactly my point,”

“I’m going to watch Mean Girls with the twins. Tell Spencer I’m here when you see him,” Brendon got off the bed and hurried out of Spencer’s room. Ryan pulled the flower back down and twirled it between his fingers, thinking about his new ‘friend.’

!

“Mom wants you to come over for Christmas,” Spencer told Ryan while Ryan plucked at a guitar he could never afford at a Guitar Center and Spencer tried to balance a drum stick on his fingertip.

“Oh damn, my dad and I were planning a huge feast! We were going to cook a ham and put up a tree and dance around the neighborhood singing carols!” Ryan said sarcastically, plucking out ‘jingle bells’ on the guitar.

“I’ll tell my mom you’ll be there then,” Spencer smiled and kicked at Ryan, who was practically cuddling the guitar. “That’s a pretty one. I can tell its true love. How much?”

Ryan sighed and hung the guitar back up. “About an arm and a leg more than I can afford,” he said. “But the good news is, my grandmother on my mother’s side sent me a letter, and she’s putting money for college into my bank account! I’m totally gonna be able to afford a guitar now! Like, not that one, cause I don’t want to blow all the money, but at least a guitar,”

Spencer frowned when he dropped the drumstick. “Shouldn’t that money be saved for, oh I don’t know, college?”

“Not going,” Ryan said simply.

“Ryan…”

“Hey guys! What are you doing here!?” It was Brendon, all bouncy and smiling and waving at them obnoxiously as he skipped over, wearing some kind of dumb orange hat on his head that said ‘Smoothie Hut.’

“Hunting for trolls,” Ryan said sarcastically, and Brendon giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world. Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“Just get off work, Brendon?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah, Smoothie Hut,” Brendon pointed to the hat, as if it wasn’t already obvious, being bright orange and all. “I come here after sometimes. I like to get music magazines, ya know? Cause they have like, guitar tips in em and stuff, and my brother got me a guitar for my birthday last year! Ah, it’s great. My parents don’t really like me reading the magazines though, so I have to hide them under my dresser. But yeah, Ryan I didn’t know you played!”

Ryan blinked a few times, taken back a bit by the huge speech, but eventually he nodded and wiped his palms on his jeans. “I rent one of the school guitars sometimes. They don’t have electrics, though. Just acoustics, so…”

Brendon smiled and nodded. “That’s awesome! Do you play anything else? I can play the piano and the violin and the clarinet and the harmonica and the organ, but organs are basically the same as pianos… I used to sing in the choir with my sister til my dad made me quit..”

Ryan blinked again, not really knowing what Brendon expected him to say. He glanced at Spencer, who was chuckling under his breath.

“Come on,” Spencer put an arm around each of their shoulders. “Let’s go get some smoothies,” Spencer knocked Brendon’s hat forward on his head, making Brendon giggle, and he messed up Ryan’s hair. Ryan didn’t even like smoothies, but they all crowded into a booth, and Brendon’s knee was pressed up against Ryan’s, and Brendon kept talking the entire time, making Ryan laugh and leaning on him and shaking Ryan’s shoulders when he got extra excited. So maybe it wasn’t that bad.

When Ryan got in the car with Spencer- Brendon wanted to walk, arguing that it wasn’t that far and that he didn’t want his parents to see him getting out of somebody’s car- he shot Ryan an evil grin and said, “You have a crush on Brendon,”

“I do not!” Ryan scoffed.

“Do so! You guys are sooooo cute together,” Spencer drawled, leaning his head on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Shut up, Smith. I’m too busy fucking your mom to have a boyfriend,” Ryan retorted.

Spencer laughed and started the car. As he backed out of their parking space he said, “I’m totally telling her that, and she’s totally not going to give you desert for like a whole week. She’s going to give you those disappointed eyes, too,”

Ryan grinned and slumped down in his seat. “Oh the horror,”

!

Ryan had given his father a Christmas gift once when he was eleven years old and he realized Santa was really his mom, and maybe it would be nice. He’d bought him a baseball cap, because he didn’t really know what else to buy for his dad. His dad took the present and threw it in the garbage, and since then Ryan hadn’t tried. The first year after his mom left them he’d put the Christmas decorations up, because his mom had loved Christmas decorations and had decorated the house every year.

“Are you trying to drive up the electric bill!?” his father had yelled, dragged the Christmas tree outside, and left it there. Ryan didn’t decorate the year after. This year was no different, except that he’d taken one of his dad’s beers out of the fridge and put a bow on it. Ryan spent almost all of Christmas break at Spencer’s house, and he wondered why his dad never questioned where he was all the time. Did he care? Probably not. He went and saw his mom twice, just to talk to her. Every time he left feeling deflated and pretty disappointed afterwards because she hadn’t changed into the mother he dreamed she would. She hadn’t turned into Spencer’s mom.

Spencer’s mom was amazing, and the gift that Mr. and Mrs. Smith gave him for Christmas made him cry. He felt pretty stupid doing it, but he was so touched that he couldn’t help it. He even hugged Mrs. Smith back when she hugged him, all warm and squishy and everything a mom hug is supposed to be, when before he would just stand there with his arms at his sides. He hugged Spencer too, kind of tackling him sideways on the couch, and kissed the side of his face and messed up his hair, and he also accidentally kneed him in the ribs, but whatever.

Spencer’s room was pretty big, and they had cleared out a side of it and squeezed a bed in- a bed for Ryan. It had new sheets and pillows and everything, and there was a shelf above it and some drawer things underneath it.

“For when you stay over,” Mrs. Smith had told him when she showed him. “You’re family, and we want you to feel at home, not like you have to live on the couch,”

That’s when he started crying. “Thank you so much…”

“Awww,” the twins hugged him too, but he didn’t really hug them back. It was nice though.

!

“I just need to check up on him,” Ryan said, shoving his feet into his shoes. “I’ll be right back,”

Spencer sighed and nodded. “Alright,”

Just a few minutes after Ryan ducked out the door and ran to his dad’s house, Brendon called Spencer, once again in the pantry with the phone chord pulled tight, because it was after nine and he wasn’t supposed to be on the phone.

“Can I come over tonight? My parents are leaving soon, and they’ll be out for the weekend. I don’t want to stay home alone,” Brendon said. “It’s weird with everyone else at college cause the house is so quiet. I don’t like it,”

“Yeah, sure. Ryan might be staying over too. My mom doesn’t mind, she likes you too much,” Spencer said.

Brendon laughed, “Dude, she loves me. I’ve awed her with my charm,”

“Something like that. Hurry over, I’ll order a pizza,”

!

“Where have you been!?” Ryan closed the door gently behind him and sighed. Great.

“Nice to see you’re breathing again. How’s the hangover?” Ryan called, walking into the kitchen and frowning at the enormous amount of dishes. The house was a wreck of dirty dishes, take out containers, dirty laundry, and random garbage Ryan really didn’t want to know about. Well, that explained his father’s mood. He tended to get grumpy when Ryan wasn’t playing the maid.

“Where have you been!?” he demanded again, and as he walked into the kitchen Ryan could smell a waft of body odor, old booze, and cigarettes. “You’re good for nothing, just like your bitch of a mother!”

“Well, next time I’ll just not come to check on you,” Ryan said, not really talking directly to his father. He went past his father to his room, to grab some clean clothes and such. His father’s shouting followed him.

“You’d be happy if I were dead!” Mr. Ross yelled, and Ryan shrugged.

“Maybe,” he said. “Probably,”

“Well I’d be happy if you were dead!” Mr. Ross responded. “I’d dance for joy on your grave! No one would go to your funeral, you little shit,” Ryan walked back in the kitchen. Would there even be a funeral? There probably would be. Spencer’s parents would make sure of it. They’d be the only ones who’d attend, maybe his mother, maybe a few kids from school who decided to be his best friend since he was dead. Probably Brendon.

“You know what this is!?” Mr. Ross shook a dirty plate at him.

“You’ve stumped me,” Ryan said sarcastically. “Are we playing charades now?” The plate shattered against the wall next to Ryan’s head and he flinched.

“You think this is funny!?” Mr. Ross shouted, seizing Ryan by the front of his shirt and shaking him, lifting him up onto his tiptoes.

Ryan must have had a death wish, or he was feeling extra cocky, or he just got so mad that he didn’t even care anymore, because he looked his father straight in the eyes and said, “Fucking hilarious,” and then punched him in the nose.

!

It was nearly midnight when Ryan unlocked the back door of the Smith’s house and slid inside. Brendon was in the kitchen, getting a glass of water (he still refused to drink soda, arguing that it was still a sin, and he didn’t want more than one reason for God to damn him to hell), and Brendon nearly dropped the glass when he saw Ryan. He managed to put it on the counter before rushing over and whisper/shouting “What happened to you!?”

Ryan shrugged him off and wiped his nose again, getting a smear of blood on his hand. It had taken him a good twenty minutes to get up off the floor after his dad finally gave up and went to bed, and another half hour to walk the short distance between houses. “Nothing. I’m going to bed,”

Brendon seized Ryan’s arm and dragged him into the bathroom. “Let me help you! You’re bleeding a lot, oh my god, your face Ryan!”

“Would you please shut up?” Ryan groaned, but sat up on the counter where Brendon guided him and let Brendon fuss over his bloody nose.

“Is it broken!?” Brendon asked, rather worried and freaking out.

“I don’t know, let me check my handy-dandy pocket x-ray machine,” Ryan rolled his eyes, which was a mistake, because it just made his headache worse. He might have knocked his head on the floor a few times, or on his dad’s fist. He couldn’t really remember.

“You don’t have to be mean to me. I’m trying to help you,” Brendon pouted, sticking his bottom lip out slightly and making his eyes all big and still fussing over Ryan. Ryan sighed, because he really didn’t have the patience for this right now.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just in a bad mood,” Ryan grumbled out.

Brendon pulled the tissue down from Ryan’s nose. “Looks like it stopped bleeding,” he said, tossing it in the trash and trying very carefully to wash the blood off of Ryan’s face with a wet paper towel. Ryan hissed in a breath when Brendon bumped his nose, and Brendon apologized twenty-five times.

“You should put some ice on that,” Brendon said, and Ryan nodded. “I’ll go get some,”

“You do that,” Ryan hopped off the counter after Brendon rushed away and tried to check out his back in the mirror, tugging his t-shirt up funny and trying to look over his shoulder. It looked ugly, and Ryan knew that under his jeans the welts went all the way down to his thighs. He heard a small gasp and dropped his shirt, turning to the door.

“We really should call the police, Ryan,” it was Mrs. Smith, looking frightened in her bathrobe and slippers with glasses she didn’t normally wear perched on her nose. Ryan shook his head. Mrs. Smith came into the bathroom and got some aspirin out of the cabinet, and handed it to Ryan while he talked.

“Just one more year,” he said. “He hasn’t done this in a while… It’s just cause I was stupid and tried to fight back. I’m fine,”

Mrs. Smith sighed. “Alright, but I don’t like it,” She placed a kiss on his forehead and he smiled slightly.

“Neither do I,”

Brendon rushed back with a bag of ice, and Ryan took it from him when Brendon tried to press it to his nose himself. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,”

“I can get myself to bed, Brendon,” Ryan said, but he let Brendon escort him there anyways because it wasn’t worth the effort to argue.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked in a whisper, because Brendon was still there after he’d shimmied out of his jeans and replaced them with pajama pants. The room was dark, so Brendon hadn’t seen Ryan’s back, and Ryan hadn’t seen Brendon blushing.

“Tucking you in,” Brendon said, pulling the blankets back on Ryan’s bed. “Climb in,”

“You’re such a fucking dork,” Ryan grumbled, climbing into the bed carefully anyways and lying down on his stomach.

“You love it,” Brendon replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m staying here till you fall asleep,”

“Why?”

“Shut up, I’m comforting you,” Brendon said, and Ryan laughed, because this kid was ridiculous. Brendon ended up falling asleep first. Ryan ended up staring at Brendon, who was curled up at the end of the bed, his legs hanging off of it. Ryan had scooted over all the way to the wall because he wasn’t comfortable with Brendon cuddling against his legs. He did eventually fall asleep, but it didn’t last long.

“Ryan! Ryan, wake up!” Brendon was shaking his shoulders, and Ryan woke up with a loud gasp, shooting up in bed and trembling. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Brendon sat right next to him and put his arms around him. “You had a nightmare, it’s okay,”

Spencer, who could sleep in the front row of a death metal concert, simply rolled over and murmured in his sleep.

“It’s okay, Ryan,” Brendon rubbed his back, and Ryan cringed.

“Please stop,”

“Oh,” Brendon’s voice fell and she scooted away. “Sorry…”

“No,” Ryan said quickly, almost desperately, though he wasn’t sure why. “I just meant my back… it’s… just…”

Brendon moved close again, his hip pressing into Ryan’s. “I get it,”

Ryan nodded slowly. “Sorry I woke you…”

“Want me to stay here? In case you have another one?”

Ryan was starting to say no when he realized he was nodding, and Jesus Christ when did he become so fucking needy? But Brendon was already sliding under the covers next to him, so he had no choice but to lay next to him. They lay on their sides, facing each other, and Ryan could feel Brendon’s breath against his cheek. He wondered what happened to the ice he’d been holding to his nose, which still felt sore and swollen.

“You’re pretty, you know that?” Brendon said, staring at Ryan with those big eyes.

“Shut up,”

“I meant it as a compliment,” Brendon said in a really sad voice and frowned. Ryan sighed and wondered how Brendon always managed to make him feel guilty for snapping at him.

“Does your nose feel any better?” Brendon asked, in what was supposed to be a whisper, but Brendon couldn’t whisper to save his life. It was a good thing Spencer slept heavy.

“It feels like a tomato,” Ryan confessed, and he blushed as bright as a tomato when Brendon placed a tiny kiss to it.

“Kiss to make it better,” Brendon whispered with a stupid little grin on his face. Ryan choked on the words

“Thank you…”

“Does he do this to you a lot?” Brendon asked, trying to sound as innocent as he could, because he didn’t want Ryan to get mad at him again and shut down.

“Yeah,” he said shakily, and then sighed. “I’m pathetic,”

“No,” Brendon said quickly, and a bit too loud so that Ryan automatically shushed him. “No,” he tried again, in a whisper. “You’re not pathetic, Ryan. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,”

Ryan swallowed hard, feeling his eyes start to burn. “I’m not strong…”

“Why don’t you want Mrs. Smith to tell the police?”

“They’ll drag it out. Make a big deal out of it. It’s not a big deal- I’m seventeen. I can go another year till I never have to go back,” Brendon leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Ryan’s, kissing him gently for only a few seconds before pulling back.

“That’s exactly why you’re strong,” Brendon’s heart was pounding and his cheeks were burning, and Ryan’s mouth had gone completely dry because, holy fuck… Brendon had just kissed him. Brendon, the geeky kid who wore red glasses, and showed everyone how he could do handstands, and cringed whenever anyone cussed, and wasn’t allowed to drink soda, and thought he was going to hell; had just kissed him. Ryan hadn’t realized he was crying until Brendon reached forward and wiped the tears off his cheek with his fingers.

“You’re not weak. Your father is the one who’s weak. You’re the strongest person in the whole world,”

Ryan didn’t argue with him anymore, and Brendon didn’t push Ryan away when he kissed him again. He didn’t even think about hell or his parents or anything, because right then he was kissing Ryan, and that was all that mattered.

!

When Spencer got out of bed that morning he saw Ryan lying on his stomach, snuggled up against Brendon’s side with his head on his chest, and Brendon with his arm around Ryan. They were both fast asleep, and Brendon was drooling slightly. Spencer smirked and pulled the blanket up farther on them. “I knew it,”

**Author's Note:**

> second chapter was inspired by YourStalker. check out their stories ;)


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